The Balance between Buddha like Compassion and Road Rage

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I love the word Boob. It’s so soft and round. Even the letters cooperate. And it sounds good coming out of my mouth. Actually feels good coming out of my mouth.

Try it. Boobs. Again, Boobs.

Now, from the tender age of (I’m going to be honest here, I didn’t actually start having boobs until I was 18) but the tender age of 18 I took these beautiful objects of art and awe and strapped them down. Hard.

Sometimes flat against my chest, sometimes behind padding, sometimes hoisted up so high I could barely breathe…but there was always extra magic when they were like that.

But in none of those times was I comfortable.

Let me divulge. I have Lucille Goldberg breasts. Lucille was my beautiful grandmother…and it used to shock me to see her in the mornings in her night shirt without her torpedo bra, that her boobs which were always high and tight were actually naturally pointed south. They just kinda hung there like dead weight.

Mine are of her line. And I was taught very young that was unattractive. That the Nipple must be front and center and the roundness needed to be perfectly weighted to absolute mathematical balance.

So I strapped mine to that position.

Every lady knows there is a dance with putting a bra on. The bend over and shake ’em up dance.

And there they stay 8, 10, 15 hours.

Caged.

My sweet, loving boobs were caged like animals.

And two things happened at almost the same time recently: 1.) I started getting a red, itchy sometimes burning rash where the underwire of my bra hits the tender skin of my upper rib cage and 2.) some French dude came out with a study that had EVERYONE talking about boobs.

And then everywhere I looked someone had a new opinion about bras and therefore by extension, the beauty that lays below them, boobs.

I have tried in vain to find this photo for you. It’s from a puberty book my mom bought me when I was a kid. It showed all the different types of breasts that could form. Big, small, sagging, high, spread out, big nipples, small nipples…everything. And even at 10 when I saw the perfectly round, squeezable, balanced, “perfect” nipple boobs I said, “I want those.”

The mind-fuck starts early kids. No one led me to that. It wasn’t the first image on the page…they are just the perfect balance, and I have always craved symmetry.

So back to the French dude and his proclamation that bras are actually inhibiting the “perfectness” of boobs. And I think back to Chinese Medicine School where we learned about the lymph nodes found RIGHT WHERE we stop lymph from flowing with these crazy symmetry contraptions. And I keep moving around like I have ants in my shirt from the itching, burning, uncomfortable feeling under my wire….and it hits me.

Stop. Wearing. A Bra. Elisha.

I took it off.

The bra I mean.

I put on my yoga top with a shelf bra that creates the very unflattering uni-boob…but I could breathe.

And then I went to Nordstrom…and a very lovely lady measured me and brought me bras without wires and I said…no, I want something even less. She told me my cup size was too large, and I said, “Try anyway.”

And she came back with this beautiful little pull over that she said was called a “bralette.” It sounded so sweet, and birdlike…it sounded..French…which I took as a sign.

And as I put it on and walked around, I smiled so big.

Not because my boobs were in “place.”

They were not.

Not because they would look “so good” under a T-shirt.

Who knows…

But because when I walked around I could feel them!

I could feel them move. I could feel them move separately. I could feel them tugging on the skin on my chest as much as down my ribs a bit. I could FEEL the flow of energy returning to the my upper carriage with every step.

I bought 2.

Then I went to Victoria’s Secret on a bralette high, armed with this new word…this new word of freedom and saw their version and tried it on and bought 2 more. In crazy colors mind you.

And the 4 bralettes I bought cost LESS then one of the standard torture containers.

And as I walked down the street, in full sun, wearing a T-shirt, for the first little bit I was partially ashamed. Maybe people would think I wasn’t wearing a bra. And so I sat with that. Right on a bench on the side of the street. I sat and I thought what does it mean when I am ashamed of my breasts moving in a natural way?

And I decided that was part of being told verbally and non-verbally that the fat on my stomach is wrong, and the fat of my hips is wrong…and in jeans it’s called muffin top (which is a bad thing when talking about hips in jeans, but when talking about food it’s actually the best part of the muffin…especially fried with butter…) But even stranger, naked hips are painted in all their round glory the highest form of ART.

And my now 40 year old face full of a lifetime of smiling and living and responding and being and growing and changing and loving is beginning to sag and removing the illusion that I’m in my 20’s.

And I told myself I wouldn’t stop these feelings in one bench sitting, and I was going to be late for my next patient…so I decided to give it time. I decided to walk and explore the feeling of FEELING my breasts on my body. Feel their freedom and attach to that. Glide with them with each step. And pay less attention to wondering about what others are thinking.

So much of what we have taught or been taught about being proper is rooted in shame. And if there is one thing on this beautiful planet to NOT feel shame about it’s the beautiful gift of nature that can simultaneously feed your young, hold up tops, be awe inspiring and sexy as all get out.

So I will continue to take this new journey into myself….with my new abfab bralettes…and wonder if you might give it some thought too?

I was a hoister…and now I am reformed…and man does it feel good to breathe!

I’m 40 now. I have a lot of years of dating in my bones. And until about four years ago I would have said it was some of the worst memories of my life.

Some people are lucky. They meet someone in high school who ends up being a perfectly perfect match and boom: married, kids, white picket fence, dog.

Some people aren’t.

I fit somewhere in the middle of that category.

I don’t know if there is Karma involved in the process of finding true love. I’m not sure it matters. But I do know there is a longing that has us making stupid mistakes, usually repeatedly.

When I was younger, I hadn’t figured out to lead with my heart yet so I learned to be crafty. I didn’t wait for that magic moment one full moon to take my soul mate down to the water where we bathed in moonlight lose our virginity.

I decided going to college a virgin was a horrible idea, so I propositioned a friend and got the deed out of the way (over and over again during lunch time) so I wouldn’t have to wait to find out what it was all about.

Does that make me weird? Probably. But I feel like I got to take control of a situation that scared me, and that made it ok.

When I got to college it was overwhelming how many boys there were. I was at a huge buffet and afraid to put anything on my tray in case something better was down the line. I didn’t want to fill up my tray prematurely.

One night, about six months into my first year I went to a concert. I think it was EMF or the Soup Dragons or something equally one-hit-wonderish…and I see this boy. He’s almost glowing like an angel. He’s super tall with long blonde hair and he’s dancing as if no one is watching. I happen to find that super hot.

I feel a plan hatching inside me. I’m dancing behind him when I see him whisper to his buddy that he’s getting some water. I nonchalantly keep him behind me and head to the water fountain. I make sure to bend over noticeably while drinking and when finished make eyes with him before I walk back into the gym. I returned to where his friend was. He whispered to his friend again a little while later and I did the water fountain trick again. I ended up doing this three times. On the fourth time, when I turned around and saw him there I stopped and said, “Are you following me?” He looked at me like I was crazy. I know his mind was a little messed up because he clearly was initiating all these water breaks, but I was in front of him each time.
“What?” he stammered, even confused himself. ”Every time I turn around at this water fountain, you’re behind me. What the hell?” I asked, half flirting half insinuating.

He just shook his head and stepped forward to get water and I walked back into the gym on the opposite side this time, where he can see me dance when he returns. Now I dance like no ones watching…but I hope someone is.

The show was over and just as I planned, he came over to me while I’m fumbling with my sweater, trying to waste time before I ran out of excuses to leave. ”Hey, do you want to come to a party with me and my friend? It’s just off campus.” he asked. ”Excuse me? First you follow me all night, now you want me in your car and I don’t even know your name?” I smiled a little so I didn’t frighten him off.
“It’s Sam. Do you want to come or not?” he pushed.
“If I can drive your car I’ll come, ” I acquiesce.
“Are you crazy?” he almost yelled at me with this irresistible glint in his eyes. It felt like we had been friends for years with this banter and strange comfort. “I don’t even know your name and I’m supposed to let you drive my car? My car that I paid for by myself!”
“Then no deal,” I said. ”You could get totally drunk and then I’m stuck somewhere and have to take the drunk bus back to campus. No thanks.”
“Jesus, OK, If I get too drunk to drive, you can have the keys, ok?” So I agreed. And he did get too drunk and I drove him back to my room, and we were inseparable for 3 years.
But that just happened. It was spur of the moment and totally called to me. There was no premeditation. No dating. It just happened.
That unmistakable spark never really came again so I turned to the needs of my body and had lots of meaningless well protected sex with no relationship for years. I always waited until I just needed human touch, and then I would give in just to feel like part of the human experience again. I kept wanting a partner, but I never found someone I actually wanted to spend time with.
And then, years later, when I was actually at my lowest, I met the man who would be my first husband. We worked together. It was easy. He was sweet and stable. I was on the other side of the country away from everything I knew, broke, confused and incredibly naive. He courted me and I allowed it. But that was ten years of my life. So when we split (amicably I should add) a few things happened. It was TEN years later and almost everyone had their own computer. I also at this point detested bars. It also seemed that all my friends were married and their friends were all married. So getting fixed up was kinda out of the question. And for my final trick, I had no luck in the produce department waiting to be picked up by some hot yoga instructor who would cook me awesome vegetarian food.
Where does a single, lonely, healthy, relatively well-adjusted lady find a man now? If friends aren’t setting you up? And there is no one interesting at work? And no one has picked you up in the Whole Foods produce department…then your best choice really boils down to internet dating. When I first got out of my marriage I was confused about how to meet people and I was very very very horny. I even started with a Craigslist personal. I always had luck finding furniture, so maybe I’d have the same odds finding a man.
I found two well written and very sexy posts there, and replied with well crafted and insightful manifestos. Unfortunately, I got the same weird Christian conservative message back from both. That felt like a really really bad omen for me. (I say this, but my friend met her wife there…so maybe it’s a good place for lesbians?) Then I did what I think most people do, I joined Match.com. It was a desperate moment. It was Friday night. I just ate an entire Pizza by myself. And more than anything, I just wanted human companionship. I didn’t, however, know the rules of internet dating.
But like carbs, I just couldn’t stay away. There were mountains of men. Mountains of men. It was just like the buffet line at college where I immediately gained 15 pounds just standing there looking at all my choices.
Most importantly maybe, I didn’t have to go to a smelly loud bar. And I could read their thoughts before meeting them. And I could see (in theory) recent photos of them before even striking up a conversation. And even if I didn’t email anyone, I got to spend an evening kinda communing with other souls just looking for connection. The problem was, I was terrible at it. Why though? I used to be crafty, tricky. I used to snare the one I want and make it last until it was dead. I used to be witty and cute and fun. But I couldn’t even get a guy to email me back. And if they did, I couldn’t get them to meet me. Or even better, I was getting unsolicited emails from men telling me I had a nice rack. (Which I do…but that won’t score you a date with me.) Well I’m happy to say, no thrilled to announce I cracked the code. I figured it all out. I now have that guy who I did in fact meet online and do intend to keep…

And he’s not who I thought he’d be. And it happened almost like a dream, but not the Hollywood kind. And there is a magic to it like those who find their mates in high school and have a white picket fence and 2.4 kids. But mine comes with a life full of experiences. My Ah Ha comes with the magic of living life to the fullest and finding out who I am. Finding out what I need. And I wouldn’t trade that for the world.
I’m not alone in this miracle of self un-earthing. Thousands of us are getting an opportunity in our thirties and forties and fifties and even sixties and beyond to finally get to the root of who we are and what we want in partnership for ourselves.
And it’s fucking brilliant.
So for you, sweet friends, I thought I would look back at the evolution of what would over a few years become my unintended expertise…internet dating. Because I KNOW you can do it, and do it well. I know you can find what you may not even know you are looking for yet. And I have the tools for you to make it happen. And maybe you are like me and wish you had a little structure, a little guidance, a little insight before blundering through this whole thing alone. And maybe you just got out of a 10 or 20 or 30-year relationship and you are thinking, “What the fuck am I going to do now?” Or maybe like me, you just aren’t having luck and you want to turn the tables and start getting multiple dates a week, perhaps even a line waiting for you. Maybe you are ready to start meeting real quality matches!
Well, sit tight ladies. Help is here. I know by tonight you can be well on your way to a different and very pleasurable internet dating experience!My book will be available electronically on Amazon and iTunes and all e-readers within the next month! I will keep you posted and be asking for your support in not only sharing the word, but also writing reviews!

I always thought I would be. I thought I’d have a daughter and I would give her all the love and confidence and joy that I had within me.

I took care of all my stuffed animals with love and mother-like pride. Barbie, Skipper and Ken were always put away neatly in their little comfortable nooks and crannies.

I always knew deep in my bones that one day someone would call me mom.

And this weekend something shifted. Something in my heart changed shape and a deep knowingness opened up.

This weekend I realized with immense sadness that won’t be happening. And the sadness wasn’t so much that I couldn’t be a mom, as it was that it’s the choice I’m making because I don’t think it’s part of my dream anymore.

I think I’ve known this was coming. I think in my soul I know I’ve had beautiful children in many lifetimes before. That this lifetime was about my spiritual growth.

But something inside me has shifted. And I realize that I have come to like the idea of alone time. Of sleeping in. Of my life being on my time. I love my freedom.

And that is so very sad. Just recognizing this.

There was a time in my life when I didn’t have a partner and I thought I would have to give up my dream. That I either had to go turkey baster style or just throw in the cards. And that terrified me. And there was a hopelessness about it.

But then I met M and we decided we would adopt. And I have been holding space for that. But I was sitting at dinner Friday and tears just started to stream down my face and they haven’t really stopped yet because something entirely different happened.

I could feel me letting go of my dream.

I could feel this idea that maybe this lifetime isn’t about having my own kids, but enjoying other people’s. That there weren’t going to be any spelling bees or soccer games or kids pizza and slumber parties. No roller skating. No buying cute dresses and doing her hair and talking about sex and menstruation and love and buddha and nature and stillness. No baby yoga and baby legs and first words and steps and the delicate snoring and mirthful laughter and impromptu ice cream raids and ballet lessons and trips to the zoo and photos everywhere we go. No English papers and history assignments and math tutors and first boyfriends or girlfriends and vacations and learning to swim and connection and snuggling and birthday parties and learning to ride a bike. No playing in the snow and learning to ski and speaking foreign languages and nurturing everything that grows in her. Making her know deep in her bones how amazingly unique and wonderful she is.

And where do I put all that? All these years of making space for this being who I would nurture and love? How do I make my heart and ears stop craving hearing her calling me from across the room?

And here it is. Mother’s Day. And Facebook is so beautiful yet it’s like walking the gauntlet. And tears threaten to fall at the slightest reunion of Mother and Daughter caught on film, the sun highlighting the similarities in their smiles.

And it’s hard not to feel less than. Less than complete.

My mom told me today that if she was of this generation and had a choice as to weather to have kids or not, she may not have. She just didn’t have a choice. And she told me I didn’t need to have kids, and maybe I am here this time to work on myself. And maybe it’s selfish to have kids when you can’t afford them, or don’t have the time to love them…it’s not selfish to make the choice not to.

So I send all my love out to the energy of my daughter who will never be and pray she forgives me for not pulling her in this lifetime. And I hope and pray I’m making the right decision. And I will breathe through this like I breathe through everything and I’m sure slowly the sadness will be eclipsed with a new project for myself or a new healing technique for those I touch.

And even owning this on the blog makes me feel more human, more connected to the thoughts and feelings because I’m sure I’m not alone in this conundrum. Half of my girlfriends don’t have kids and have chosen not to. One of my friends mentioned it makes us “interesting” because we have the time to develop ourselves.

And I don’t know how this will end…but I did make a rhubarb strawberry crisp with fresh rhubarb from my yard…so I bet that’s a great place to start.

Happy Mother’s Day to everyone who has ever held compassionate space for another and allowed them the freedom to grow and change and become who they are. We definitely need and appreciate all you have to offer the world!

That is a f@4k of a lot of expectation to put on someone, that’s what it is.

And it seems we are all looking for ours now.

And the last time I checked there was really NO way to know for certain if this person was sent here by the spirits above to be your one and only mate for all of time.

And yet that’s what we keep waiting for. This “soulmate” that someone like Tom Cruise so infamously said “completes us.”

Does this sound like a load of horse shit created by someone who can sell a lot of stuff by people buying into it to anyone else?

And mind you. I’m in a really beautiful relationship…have been in many wonderful relationships in my life…but if I had to hold out hope that this one is my soul-mate…I just feel like I would be putting a question out there that can’t be answered and be totally disappointed at every turn.

Not to mention, does that mean I made mistakes all along the way with my choices?

OH, you can’t read my mind, you must not be my soul-mate.

Oh, we actually disagree about things, you must not be my soul-mate.

Oh you like to lean your head to the left when we kiss and so do I, you must not be my soul-mate.

I bring this up because someone recently asked me if my partner was my soul-mate, and I just looked at them with this face that I hope read, are you completely out of your mind right now?

I know I write a lot of woo-woo posts, and so you think I would be the first person on board with this soul-mate concept, but I have been living in this human incarnation for 40 years and let me tell you this. Every person I come in contact with has a lesson to teach me.

Every person I enter into relationship with: Either physical or non-physical, changes me in some way.

And if that isn’t giving me a soul part…then I don’t know what is. If that isn’t a “soul mate” then who is?

How can there be just one?

I fall in love with 30 people a day.

30!

I see someone doing something beautiful and I’m in love.

Someone can hold with me in a great round of banter and I’m in love!

Someone bakes me something…well, I mean at a store…and I buy it…and I sink into the doughy buttery-ness of it…and let me tell you, I’m in love.

Folks, Goat Butter…Seriously in love.

Trees! LoVe!

Blooming flowers!!!! Holy cow am I in Love!

Clearly it’s a different type of love then I share with my intimate friends. But since I am not moved by all people, I am left to assume that the ones that move me are soul-parts, soul-mates, soul-friends.

Why would I want just one?

Doesn’t that seem at all limiting to you?

I feel better. I think you agree.

Let me be honest. There was a period in my life, after my divorce, where I wrote a list of EXACTLY who MY GUY was and put it on my altar. And there it sat. And after a date I would open it up and see if they were “my list.” And you know what? They weren’t.

Even if they were missing like 2 of the 50 things I would say…but I couldn’t live without someone making me laugh!

Did I give them a chance to make me laugh? Probably not.

And when I threw my list away and dated for the sake of meeting fellow human beings looking for love…I started finding that perhaps what I thought I wanted wasn’t even true. And that what I wanted and craved was human connection. And even the coffee breaks with strangers filled my soul with a fullness that was SO much more then sitting and staring at my list of “who my soul mate is.”

So all this is to say. I think that hollywood and the Secret and other folks trying to sell you a miracle cure and ageless tonics made out of snake oil…are distracting you from the truth that love is everywhere….and the more chances you take loving others and the more opportunity you give people to love you back…the closer you will find yourself with the romantic love you desire.

So perhaps stop limiting yourself to the idea of just one soulmate…and see what you catch when experiencing life to it’s fullest! Find love in a glance, in a conversation, in goat butter.

It makes life super shiney!

From one of your soulmates…..sending you oodles and oodles of love….you had me at Hello.